The In Between
by AnitaECross
Summary: This is a continuation of the Originals, but happens before Legacies begins. (I'll also add that it's mostly Klaroline, but also probably a little Haylijah at some point.)
1. Aftermath

"He's dead," Caroline announced as she strode into the study.

Alaric glanced up from his cluttered desk, where he was finishing up another tale for his next book. He frowned at the expression on Caroline's face, or rather, the lack thereof. There was something much too carefully calculated about it; her mouth too straight, her brows too rigidly placed. The only giveaway to her hidden emotions was the strange cloudiness in her eyes.

"What, no tears?" Ric asked. He winced internally at the callousness in his own voice, but what would Care expect? He and Klaus hadn't exactly seen eye to eye. After the possession of his body, the terrorization of his town, and all the horrific events that had occurred in between, Alaric felt that the word "hate" would be an accurate summation of his relationship with the original hybrid.

Caroline, however, was different, and Alaric could tell by the way her shoulders stiffened at his words that he had crossed a line. She glanced at him, her pale brows furrowed, mouth twisting into half a frown, as she bent over her desk. The glare lasted for only a moment, though; her eyes roved over her papers, searching for something.

"Sorry, that came out wrong," Ric said in an attempt to ease the sudden tension.

"I don't think it did," Caroline remarked as her hands fell upon the item she'd been looking for: a plain, leather-bound journal. Once it was in her grasp, she stalked away, heels tapping angrily on the floor. Alaric swore he heard a quiet "hmph" as she passed his desk on the way out. With a sigh, he followed her.

"Care, I didn't mean it," he called as he dashed around students mingling in the hallways. She pretended not to hear him. Her stubbornness was a trait that Alaric had often admired…except when he had to deal with it. But he couldn't leave her like that, so he continued to follow her up the stairs, around a corner, all the way to Stefan's old bedroom, which now served as hers.

"C'mon, Care," Ric said softly when he saw her shoulders quivering. He certainly hadn't meant to make her cry.

Caroline turned to face him from her position in the middle of the room, the journal clutched tightly against her chest.

"I know you cared about him," Alaric continued. "I…I'm sorry I sounded like a jerk. But you know, not all of us had the same relationship with Klaus that you did."

"I'm not mad at you," Caroline told him. "It's just…it's finally starting to sink in. He's gone. The one person I thought would be around forever…is gone."

Ric entered the room, closing the door quietly behind him. He wasn't entirely sure he understood (hell, he'd never understand how anyone could care for a monster like Klaus, especially not someone as vibrant as Caroline), but he knew loss. He had experienced it many times, and it could change a person. It could break you. Caroline had experienced her fair share of loss, as well, but…some losses were harder to take than others.

"Did you…imagine a future with him?" Alaric tried to keep the skepticism out of his voice. He may not have held any love for Klaus, but he did for Caroline, so it was a genuine attempt to not sound like an asshole.

"No. Maybe. I don't know!" Caroline threw up her hands, the journal still safely enclosed in her right fist.

Alaric hesitated for a moment, taking in Caroline's expression, calculating. "I thought you went to New Orleans to find closure."

"I went to New Orleans to say goodbye."

"And did you?"

Caroline opened her mouth to reply, but no words came out. She didn't know what to say.

"Look, Care, I'm sensing some denial going on here, but the truth is that I don't need to know. No one needs to know how you felt about Klaus…except you. Maybe once you admit that, you'll actually get some kind of closure." Ric turned towards the door. "If it helps at all, there's one thing I absolutely know to be true."

Caroline eyed him warily. "What's that?"

Alaric met her gaze. "Klaus Mikealson loved you."

Caroline closed her eyes just as a couple more tears leaked out.

"I'm not afraid to admit how I feel," she said sadly. "I did that ages ago. But I just…I know I had a different relationship with Klaus than anyone else, and I know that you don't understand." She opened her eyes and shook her head, as if to shake her thoughts loose. "He was a terrible person. He killed Elena's aunt, he killed Tyler's mom, not to mention countless others before and after he blazed through Mystic Falls. I know all this, I know exactly how terrible he was. But I..."

Ric watched her carefully as she began to pace the room.

"I loved Stefan," Caroline continued. "I married Stefan. And Klaus and Stefan had this strange, rocky relationship, to say the least. How could I love Stefan and still…"

"Love Klaus?"

"Don't put words in my mouth."

"You were thinking it."

Caroline shook her head again, her heels clicking in an agitated rhythm as she paced. Alaric frowned, watching her stride about the room. She was going somewhere with this, he thought, but working it out as she went. Trying to understand her own feelings for the man she'd just lost, maybe, or needing someone else to hear what was going on inside her head. If that helped her get closure, and close the door on this chapter in her life, than Alaric was happy to listen. But after a long moment of no speaking and continuous clicking, Ric figured she needed a nudge.

"So…this is about Stefan?" he asked.

"No," Caroline replied with utter certainty, jabbing a finger in Alaric's direction. "This is about me, and how I've always known in my head that it was wrong for me to care about Klaus, _because_ of all the horrible things he's done, _because_ of Stefan. But I saw a glimmer of goodness in him, and that, more than anything else, is what drew me to him. I knew there was hope for him, though he seemed motivated to prove me wrong. But a part of me knew that somewhere down the line, far from now, I'd give him a chance. In the meantime, I've been holding onto Stefan and remembering all those horrible things that Klaus has done, in an effort to stay away, because of how wrong I felt for caring about him. Does that make sense?"

"You're ranting," Ric said.

Caroline ignored him and continued. "Klaus finally became that person I knew he could be. He came here begging for help, to save his daughter, fully intending to give his life. And that's not something I ever would have expected from him. I found myself thinking that this, _this_ was the version of Klaus I'd been waiting for, the version that I could be with. The version I could…" She stopped pacing. "But he died. That promise he made…It's over. It's all over."

The room fell eerily quiet.

"What promise?" Ric asked quietly.

"However long it takes," Caroline answered, not meeting his gaze. With that, the journal still clutched in her white knuckled grasp, Caroline brushed past Ric and left the room.


	2. Mourning

Books hit the wooden floor with loud _thuds_ , but Hope Mikealson didn't care. She could make as much noise as she wanted, disturb the entire neighborhood, and no one would complain. At least, not to her. Maybe to Aunt Freya or Keelin, but not to the girl who had just lost everything. She was , after all, the pitiable orphan, the person everyone felt sorry for, a person who could probably have gotten away with murder at the moment because anyone who saw her agitation and distress would merely say she was "coping." So for now, books flew through the air.

 _Thud._ Pause. _Thud._ Pause.

Hope didn't want to be that person.

 _Thud._ Pause. _Thud._ Pause.

She wanted a family that was happy and intact.

 _Thud._ Pause. _Thud._ Pause.

But luck had never been a defining feature of the Mikealson tribe.

Maybe she should try to get adopted into another family, she thought, her brow wrinkling as she continued to pull the plain brown journals from the bookshelf. She almost missed the date on the one currently in her hand before chucking it into the growing pile near her right foot. Maybe she could be part of a family that didn't hurt one another as much as they loved.

But then she would probably just bring her misfortune along and destroy a family that didn't deserve it.

 _Thud._ Pause. _Thud._ Pause.

A sigh escaped her as her shoulders tensed. Why wasn't it here?

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Hope glanced to her right to find her Aunt Freya's tall form in the doorway. One pale eyebrow was cocked in question, blue eyes alight with something like concern. Hope followed her Aunt's gaze to the pile of dark, leather-bound books lying forlornly on the wooden floor. Of course, Freya probably thought she had succumbed to the sorrow and was currently in the process of losing her mind.

"Is pulling all the books off the shelf some strange sort of new game?" Freya queried as she entered the room.

Hope turned her attention back to the bookcase, but she'd already checked all the journals. "I'll put them back," she said with a gesture to the pile on the floor. "I just…wanted to make sure."

Freya crossed her arms. "Sure of what?"

Hope turned to face her Aunt, the frustration boiling within her. She didn't want to cry, though, so she shoved that emotion down…but she could feel the water threatening to spill out of her eyes. She hurriedly wiped those tears away.

"One of Dad's journals is missing."

Freya glanced at the bookshelf as if she didn't believe Hope's words. "Are you sure? How do you know?"

Hope threw up her hands. "Because I've read all of them! And I never really thought about it before, but after…after he died it came back to me. Dad always dated his journal entries, and there was a gap of a few years. I just…" Hope shrugged and glanced at her feet. "I can't talk to him anymore. When he wasn't around while I was growing up, I read his journals to feel closer to him. And now, that's the closest I'm ever going to get. And the thought that one of them is missing, I just…"

She shrugged again and glanced out the window, a faraway look in her gaze. "I know it won't be a happy read, like his other journals, but…"

"It was his," Freya finished. "I understand."

"I wish Mom had kept journals. All I have are those letters, but…I guess it's better than nothing." Hope hugged herself as she met her Aunt's gaze, the tears back in her eyes.

Freya gave her niece a half smile. "I'm guessing you've already riffled through your father's sketchbooks?"

Hope nodded, her brows furrowed over watery blue eyes. "It's not enough. I don't have enough of them."

Freya crossed the room and wrapped her arm around Hope's shaking shoulders. "It will get easier," she said in a low voice.

"I don't want it to get easier," Hope responded, her voice cracking. "I want my parents to be here with me. I wanted them to live, and it doesn't matter what anyone says, I still feel like their deaths were my fault."

"Don't blame yourself," Freya ordered as she stroked Hope's honey colored hair with a gentle hand. "Your parents made split second decisions to save your life. They loved you."

"And now they're gone, forever," Hope whispered, the threatening tears finally leaking from the corners of her eyes. "It's not fair."

Freya pulled Hope into a tight hug. "I know. It's not. But Keelin and I are both here for you, if you need anything." She kissed Hope's head before stepping back. "Do you want me to stay?"

"No, you're fine," Hope lied as she wiped the tears away. "I didn't forget, you can't miss that appointment."

"We can cancel," Freya insisted, grasping Hope's hands in her own, but Hope shook her head.

"Go. We need something happy for a change."

Freya smiled at her niece. "I'll help you find that journal when we get back."

Hope smiled as Freya left, but her lips quickly twisted into a grimace. She'd have the house to herself for at least a couple hours. She wasn't sure that was a good thing. She tended to think too much when she was alone, and it was much too easy to think about everything she'd recently lost. That was, after all, the reason she'd begun searching for her father's missing journal in the first place. She'd needed a distraction from herself. Focusing on the search had helped her push the sadness and fear away, so the logical thing now was to continue the hunt.

And she had an idea of where to look next.

Hope sighed deeply when she reached the door to her father's bedroom. She felt strangely cold and afraid, worried that entering the room of a dead man would feel like a violation. She hesitated, half lifting her arm to reach for the doorknob. The journal, she thought. She had to find the journal.

A twist, a push, a breath.

Hope tentatively took a step forward, her bare feet cold against the floor. A shiver ran through her body as she closed the door with a gentle click behind her. Her father could have just walked out, she thought, tears welling up again. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. Even after two weeks, it still smelled like him. Hope suddenly had the feeling that he was there, hiding just out of sight.

"Dad?"

But she knew there would be no answer.

Hope took a deep breath and reminded herself why she had come. She needed to find the journal. There was a bookshelf, a dresser, a closet, the space under the bed…but none of them yielded any results. She tried a revealing spell and even knocked on the walls and floor, hoping that there was a hidden compartment somewhere.

Several minutes later she'd still had no luck. With a wrinkled brow, Hope scrutinized the room, wondering if she'd missed anything. The journal existed, she was sure of it. Why would her father skip writing about only a couple years of his life? Hope shook her head and bit her lip. With disappointment contributing to an already heavy heart, Hope surveyed the room one last time.

As her eyes roved over the bed, she noticed something. Her heart began to pound. In one leap, she was there, her fingers trembling as she reached under the pillow for the object beneath.

It was a sketchbook.

Hope's heart continued to hammer painfully against her ribs as she flipped the sketchbook open.

Her first thought was surprise. She began to skip through the pages, her surprise quickly transitioning to confusion with each turn. When she reached the end, she closed the book with an audible _snap_ and held it in shaking hands.

She had to talk to someone.

Not Freya. She and Keelin were trying to start a family, and Hope couldn't intrude on that. Rebecca? Marcel? No, they had just reunited and were probably too busy being in love somewhere far away.

Hope reached into her pocket for her phone, nearly dropping the device in her haste.

"Facetime," she muttered as she chose her contact. She held her breath while waiting for Uncle Kol to answer.

"Hope, what a –," but Hope had no time for pleasantries. She cut across Kol instantly, flipping open the sketchbook and holding it up for him to see. Recognition and surprise flickered through her Uncle's eyes. Good. That meant he could probably explain why the visage of the headmistress of Hope's school was plastered all over her father's hidden sketchbook.


	3. Waiting

Hope didn't know what to do. She paced the house, phone in hand, scrolling through her contacts without any idea of who to talk to. Who could tell her anything more than what Kol had already said? Her father, of course, but since he was no longer amongst the living, that wasn't really an option. She stood by what she'd thought earlier, that she couldn't bother her Aunt Freya and Keelin, nor Rebekah and Marcel…though she was caring less and less about disturbing either pair as the minutes crept by. She wanted, no _needed_ , to know every single detail…details that Kol didn't know.

A heavy sigh escaped from Hope's lips, her phone clenched in a white knuckled grasp as she pounded down the staircase and around the foyer.

Had they all known? If they had, why had no one bothered to tell her?

Hope's brow furrowed as thoughts continued to flood through her head. This was important, incredibly important, and yet no one had deemed it necessary to tell her. They all had explaining to do. This was a story she had not yet heard, a story she very much needed to hear. Why had no one else realized that?

Hope stopped in her tracks as a sudden thought popped into her head.

Had Mom known? A shudder ripped through Hope, the sudden longing for her mother the most painful ache she'd felt since Hayley's death. The person she wanted to talk to most wasn't there, and never would be again.

Footsteps headed her way interrupted Hope's sorrow. She quickly wiped away the tears and watched as Vincent approached her.

"I hope you don't mind, I let myself in," he said with a small shrug. "I ran into your Aunt Freya and…She thought you might like the company while she and Keelin are out."

"Oh. You don't…want to be there with them?"

Vincent shrugged again as he glanced around the dark room. "My part's done," he said. "Want to explain why you're standing alone in a dark room with a lost look on your face?"

Hope hesitated, the sketchbook a suddenly heavy weight where it was tucked into the crook of her arm. Should she ask Vincent? Did he know? Deciding it was worth a shot, she held the sketchbook out to him.

Vincent silently flipped it open, a frown on his face. "Did you draw these?"

"No," Hope said breathlessly, carefully watching Vincent's face.

"Oh, so…Klaus did."

Hope nodded, words escaping her as Vincent looked through all the pages. "It would appear your father was infatuated with this woman."

Disappointment settled in her stomach. "You don't know who she is?"

"Sorry, no," Vincent said as he returned the sketchbook to Hope's grasp. "But you obviously wish I did."

Hope sighed. "I know who she is, I just…I wanted to know what she meant to my dad."

Interest sparked in Vincent's eyes. "Who is she?"

"The headmistress of my school."

Vincent's eyebrows rose. "Well, you'll have to tell me the story when you find out."

A watery chuckle escaped from Hope's lips, and that's when it hit her. She might not be able to ask her father, but…she could ask Ms. Forbes. It was so obvious! She couldn't believe how she'd wasted so much time pacing the house when she could have been headed for Mystic Falls, Virginia.

"I have to go," she gasped, racing towards her room. She needed money so she could take a bus, or maybe the train. Or maybe…Elijah's Bentley. It was just sitting there, after all, its owner dead now for over two weeks. Aunt Freya hadn't mentioned doing anything with it yet, whether or not they were going to sell it, so it was just collecting dust and cobwebs…It didn't matter that Hope had barely any experience with driving. She knew enough, and she knew exactly where the keys were waiting for her.

Hope dashed back into the foyer where Vincent still stood waiting, eyes wide and eyebrows raised as he glanced in Hope's direction. "You can't take off without telling anyone," Vincent said, a hand extended towards her.

"I'm telling you," Hope replied as she strode toward the door.

"You know what I mean. Wait until Freya comes home."

Hope whirled around. "They could be gone for a while longer still. I need to know now!"

Vincent held both hands up. "I don't know exactly what's going through your mind, but hold on for a second. Think this through."

Hope stared at him.

"You just lost both your parents, I understand. But your Aunt Freya lost the same people. If she comes home to find you missing…"

"You can tell her where I've gone," Hope insisted.

"Maybe she'll want to know, same as you. Wait for her." Vincent shoved his hands into his pockets and took a step towards Hope. "Please."

Tears stung Hope's eyes. The desire for truth tore at her insides, eating her alive, but…Vincent had a valid point. How could she wait, though? Should she resume pacing and imagine what answers waited for her? Or should she simply disregard everything else and leave?

"I'm so stupid," Hope whispered, eyes wide at a sudden thought. She punched her school's number into her phone and waited impatiently while it rang, and rang, and…

"Salvatore Boarding School for the Young and Gifted," said a familiar voice.

"Mr. Saltzman? This is Hope Mikealson. Is Ms. Forbes there?"

A moment of silence.

"Hope? What's wrong?"

"Please, I need to speak to Ms. Forbes. It's important."

"She's not here," Alaric said slowly. "She left for Paris earlier today."

Hope felt sick. She was momentarily at a loss for words.

"Hope?"

"Yeah…I'm still here. When…when does she get back?"

"Not for a couple months, I'm afraid. You'll be back at school before then. Can I do anything?"

"No, I…I really need to speak with Ms. Forbes. Thanks, though."

Hope hung up and stared at her phone. Well, it was a good thing she hadn't taken off, then, she thought, feeling foolish. Or…maybe she could talk Aunt Freya into taking a trip to France.

A laugh emerged from Hope's throat. It startled her.

"Hope?" Vincent reached for her as the tears began to fall in full force. She rested her head on his shoulder and laughed and cried while wondering how long it would take for the feeling of loss to leave her completely.

Thank you to everybody who's read, followed, favorite, or reviewed so far! I appreciate it, and that more than anything is the motivation to keep writing this story down.


	4. Watching

He was certain that if he reached out, he could touch her. She was so close, after all, a mere breath away. All he had to do was stretch his hand out a few inches to brush hers… And yet something stopped him. The truth, perhaps. He knew he wouldn't be able to feel her at all, as the thin veil between worlds separated them. He could hear her, even see her, but to touch her was absolutely impossible.

The thought filled him with an unbearable sadness.

Wasn't he supposed to find peace? It was a question Klaus had been asking himself since the moment of his death, but the answer seemed to evade him. Hayley and Elijah had certainly found it, but…

Klaus glanced at the visage of the beautiful blonde beside him, the woman who had no idea how often he'd followed her since his demise. Maybe that was the reason why he felt so restless… Maybe he was holding on too hard to what he had left behind… He briefly wondered if this lingering uncertainty was better than nothing. He'd been worried, after all, that there would be nothing but a dark abyss after life… And he'd been pleased to discover that there was a world beyond the only one he'd known. However…

Klaus briefly forgot his troubles when Caroline entered through the gate of the Salvatore boarding school, her golden hair bouncing with each deliberate step. He followed her as she entered the old home, bypassed the main room, and detoured into the office she shared with Alaric. The latter was absent, most likely because he was busy teaching a class of disinterested teens.

Klaus hovered near the front of Caroline's desk as she threw herself onto the leather chair behind it. Her pale eyebrows were knit, her usually bright eyes cloudy with what Klaus presumed to be heavy thoughts. Her shoulders hunched forward as she leaned over her desk, hands moving quickly through the papers lingering there, dismissing a few notes, but stopping to read others more thoroughly. Klaus watched her face intently, disturbed by the constant crease between her brows. She had worn such a sad expression on her face the past few months, much like Hope had. Though part of him was grateful that they'd mourned him, he would much rather see them smile.

Klaus frowned as he watched Caroline's eyes widen slightly. She was reading a scrap of paper that someone had scrawled upon with messy writing. He was about to step behind her desk to read it when a voice called out.

"Welcome back," Alaric said. Klaus glanced at him just as Caroline did. "Nice trip?"

Caroline ignored his question, gesturing towards Alaric with the scrap of paper still clutched in her hand. "Did Hope say what she wanted from me?"

Klaus watched carefully as Alaric's mouth curved into a small frown. He shoved his hands into his pockets and took a couple cautious steps closer to Caroline. "She didn't say."

"Well, obviously it's about her father," Caroline murmured to herself, so low Klaus was sure Alaric hadn't heard.

"I'm sure she'll stop by sometime today, though," Alaric commented. Blue eyes flitted to meet his. "She's been checking in with me every day to ask when you're coming back."

"Seriously? What have you been telling her?" Caroline shook her head and raised a hand just as Alaric started to answer. "Never mind," she said as she carefully placed the small piece of paper in the trash. "I'll leave before she gets here."

Klaus felt the strong urge to reach out and grab Caroline's arm as she strode purposefully towards the door, but his hand only touched the air. Luckily, Alaric appeared to have the same train of thought. He stepped into the blonde vampire's path with a hand held out, a deep frown now curving his lips.

"Yes?" Caroline asked, her pale brows so high on her forehead they nearly disappeared into her hair.

"Hope is a student of ours," Alaric said.

"I know that."

"She wants to talk to you."

"Apparently."

"So…"

"I don't have all day, Ric."

"You're just going to ignore her?"

Caroline let out an agitated huff as she glanced away from Alaric. Klaus took a few steps closer, eyes focused on the blonde as she struggled with her next words.

"I'm not ready," she said finally, her gaze meeting Ric's again.

Klaus moved across the room until he was close enough to touch her. "Please, Caroline," he whispered, wishing that she could hear him as he could hear her. He wasn't sure what he expected, not really, but he was aware of one thing. Caroline was a beautiful and vibrant person, someone who could make an important impact on his young daughter's life. He wanted Hope to talk to Caroline. He wanted them to find in each other what he himself had found in them.

Maybe that would bring him peace.

"Caroline," Alaric said slowly, as though he were weighing his words, "maybe…maybe talking to Hope will be good for you. Good for you both."

Well, wasn't that strange, Klaus thought. He and Alaric were on the same page.

"I don't know, Ric…" Caroline's shoulders lifted in half a shrug. "What would I say?"

Alaric placed a comforting hand on Caroline's shoulder. Klaus stared at it regretfully, wishing that it was his hand instead.

"Whatever you say, it will be the right thing. It usually is."

Caroline's eyes crinkled with amusement. "Usually?"

Alaric's chuckle was interrupted by a knock at the door. All eyes turned towards it, to find a hesitant Hope Mikealson standing on the threshold. Klaus smiled as he took in her bright blue eyes, honey colored hair, pressed uniform, and… Was that his sketchbook clutched in her hands?

"Hope," Alaric greeted with a smile, as Caroline seemed to have momentarily lost her ability to speak. He glanced at the blonde vampire then, and, with an apologetic shrug, took long strides towards the door. "She's all yours," he said to Hope as he passed her, leaving the two women standing in an uncomfortable silence.

 **A/N - I feel silly, but I only just learned what an author's note is. Anyway, sorry for the short chapter, it's been difficult to find time to write! I promise that the next chapter will have a little more meat to it; I just wanted to have a little suspense leading up to Caroline and Hope's talk. I really feel like they could have an interesting relationship… Thanks again for reading!**


	5. A Longing for Truth

Caroline forced a smile onto her face as the sound of Alaric's retreating footsteps faded away. "Please, come in, sit down," she said with a gesture towards her desk, and the straight backed chair that sat across from it. She turned towards it herself, the smile quickly transitioning to a grimace as soon as her back was facing Hope. This wasn't something she had expected, she thought nervously, tapping her fingers absentmindedly against her thigh as she moved across the floor. She could hear Hope moving just behind her. What could the young Mikealson possibly want? Someone to talk to, a shoulder to cry on? But why had Hope come here? Why would Hope come to Caroline to talk about her father?

Because Caroline knew, without a doubt in her mind, that Klaus Mikealson would be the topic of their impending discussion.

Caroline tried to smile again as she sat at her desk, but she couldn't quite make her lips curve upward enough. Luckily, Hope's eyes weren't on her. The young girl was too busy staring at her feet as she carefully sat in the chair across from Caroline. That brought a thoughtful frown to the blonde vampire's face. The lack of eye contact, the tension in Hope's shoulders, the way she clutched the sketchbook to her chest as though it were a life preserver… This was an incredibly uncomfortable person. Caroline's own nervousness increased at the realization.

"So, Hope, what can I do for you?"

Hope stared at her feet for another moment before slowly raising her gaze to meet Caroline's. "What was your relationship with my father?"

Caroline's brows shot upward, disappearing into her hairline for the second time that day. Her mouth dropped open as if to speak, but no words came out. She didn't know what to say. After all, that hadn't been a question she'd expected Hope to ask. She thought Hope was merely still mourning and needed someone to talk to, someone to feel safe with, someone who was an authority figure in her life. Maybe someone outside of her family who could understand what she was going through. But of course, nothing could ever be as simple as that.

Caroline considered her next words carefully, unsure of what had brought on Hope's query. Should she lie? Should she be truthful? Well, that might be possible, if Caroline herself had known exactly what her relationship with Klaus had been.

"Your father and I were friends," Caroline said carefully, believing it herself as the words left her lips. It was true, after all. While they both may have considered something more at certain points during the years they'd known each other, well… Caroline let the thought dissipate inside her head as Hope's brow furrowed, her mind clearly working. She nodded as though she accepted Caroline's answer, but there was still a question in her eyes.

"What brought this on?" the blonde vampire asked as Hope's silence continued.

Hope's grip on the sketchbook loosened. "I think my father wanted to be more than friends." She stood up slowly and held out the book for her headmistress to take. Caroline did so with trembling fingers. She knew what she was going to find before she even opened the sketchbook.

"Go through the whole thing," Hope said, and waited in silence while Caroline flipped through the pages, finding herself on each and every one.

Pale fingers closed the book. Blue eyes met blue eyes.

"I don't understand," Caroline whispered. "Why are you showing me this?"

"Because I want to know," Hope told her, eyes wet with the threat of tears. "I want stories about my father from someone who isn't family. And not bad stories," she corrected as she lifted a hand to wipe away the single tear that spilled out. "All I've heard or read are bad stories, mostly from my father himself."

Caroline lifted a brow in question. What kind of father told his child horrible stories about himself?

"His journals," Hope said in answer. "I've read them all. Well, almost all of them."

Caroline felt suddenly hot as Hope's words sunk in. There was, after all, a journal sitting just a few inches away from where her hand currently rested on the wooden desk. It was a journal she had yet to read…

"Why did no one tell me?" Hope blurted unexpectedly, tears exploding from her eyes. "After all these years at this school, all the times I've passed you in the hallways, all the years of hearing terrible things about my terrible father. Why didn't he tell me? Why didn't _you_ tell me?"

"Hope, I don't know what you mean – "

"He loved you," Hope said simply. "I asked Uncle Kol and Aunt Rebekah, and they told me. And that sketchbook says more than they ever could." She shook her head. "I just don't get it. Why keep it a secret from me? Why keep the best of my father hidden in the shadows?"

Caroline stood, the sketchbook falling from her fingers as she moved around her desk towards her student. "Hope, there wasn't, isn't, anything to tell. Truly."

"Yes, there was," Hope insisted, wiping away the tears with her sleeves. "My terrible father was capable of love. Of course that's something I needed to know. And I would have preferred to know it while he was still alive. Maybe then…"

She shook her head and bolted from the room as more tears began to leak from her eyes, leaving a stunned Caroline behind. She headed straight for the library, where more stories of her father's treachery lurked. She felt a strong urge to pull them from the shelves, throw them into a pile, and burn them all. With narrowed eyes she took a step forward, intending to do just that, but a small bulge in the carpet caused her to trip. She threw her hands out to grab onto the glass case in the center of the room in an effort to keep herself from falling, and her gaze lit upon the battered journal within.

Hope's bright blue eyes widened with a sudden realization.

When Caroline entered the library a few minutes later, searching for the distressed Hope, she discovered the journal of Stefan Salvatore missing.


	6. Need

Hope's eyes were blurs as she perused the journal at top speed. She already had it memorized for the most part, so she could merely skim the stories in it now until she found what she was looking for. A lot had happened to Stefan Salvatore over the course of his long life, so of course she couldn't remember all the minuscule details of each and every tale he'd ever documented. As she read, she wondered about all the other potential journals he had written, for there were surely stories out there somewhere that she hadn't had the pleasure of examining, stories that included her father…Though they, like all the other stories about her father, were sure to be horrible…

Hope shook her head to clear those thoughts from her mind. She had a purpose here, a reason for why she had stolen the journal. Not just because she'd remembered tales regarding her father's apparent infatuation with a certain blonde vampire, but because Stefan Salvatore had often faced death. She was particularly interested in the stories that involved some sort of resurrection.

It was proof that not all things that died remained dead.

Halfway through re-reading the journal, Hope glanced up with a sigh. She had taken refuge on the porch at the old mill, where she could stare at the very spot where her father had taken the magic that would be his doom. She wasn't entirely sure why she had chosen that spot to hide. Sure, it was hidden in the woods, far from the other students, but it wasn't completely isolated. There were other people who knew about it, and one of those people was the very person she was hiding from.

Hope snorted. She supposed if she really wanted to hide, she wouldn't be sprawled out on the front porch of the mill with the journal she wasn't supposed to be reading. If Caroline happened to stop by, she would see Hope immediately.

But maybe, Hope thought with a strange twinge twisting her stomach, that was exactly what she was hoping for…

Another sigh escaped from Hope's lips. Quite frankly, she was ashamed of herself. She had meant to speak to Ms. Forbes intelligently, cautiously, and kindly. The outburst had come out of nowhere, surprising even Hope herself. How could she face the headmistress of her school again?

Hope shifted out of her cross-legged position as her right foot filled with pins and needles. She stretched her legs out in front of her and brought the journal up again, ready to skim through the second half. It wasn't the journal she wanted to be reading, but if she found the story she was so desperately searching for, she might not need to read her father's missing journal.

She could just ask him to relay the stories himself.

* * *

Caroline knew without a doubt that Hope Mikealson had taken Stefan's journal. She wasn't sure why, but she felt in her gut that it was true. And quite frankly, Caroline couldn't blame her. It suddenly seemed so stupid to place an old journal in a glass case and say it was forbidden to touch in a place filled with beings at their most rebellious age. Of course that would make them want to read it.

But it wasn't just anyone who had taken the journal. It was Hope Mikealson.

Caroline sighed deeply. She had half-heartedly tried to find Hope after their incredibly brief chat, if one could even call it that. Part of Caroline was relieved that Hope had run off. It meant she could put off discussing the details of the very strange relationship she'd had with Klaus. Yes, they were friends, as she had said, but once Caroline told Hope the stories about the times she and Klaus had spent together, well…

And the sketchbook. Caroline's heart beat faster just thinking about it. Klaus had drawn her enough times to fill at least fifty-something pages. It was…

Caroline stared out the window of her study, watching the students of her school from afar. She couldn't think of a word to describe what she was currently feeling. It was a mixture of anger, sadness, and uncertainty. She didn't know what to do or who she could talk to.

Actually, she knew exactly who she wanted to talk to, but it was impossible. He was dead.

A sudden overwhelming feeling of loss engulfed her. Caroline closed her eyes and clutched at her chest, the realization nearly incapacitating her. A second later her phone was in hand. She found the contact she needed and pressed the call icon, whispering, "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon," as it rang, and rang, and rang.

Damn, voicemail.

"Bonnie, it's Caroline," she began tentatively, wondering exactly how to phrase what she wanted. Maybe it was best to leave the details out, and simply give her old friend the bottom line. So she said, "I need you," knowing it was the truest thing she could possibly say.

* * *

"I need your help."

The twins glanced at each other, though Hope had trouble understanding the emotion behind their eyes. Did people ask strange things of them all the time, because of their weird type of magic? How many occasions called for siphoning magic, really? Hope didn't know, but…she knew their magic was exactly what her plan needed.

"What kind of help?" Lizzie asked as both twins crossed their arms in unison.

Hope peered over her shoulder, making sure no one was hovering nearby. They were out on the large expanse of lawn in front of the school, other students passing, talking, laughing. They all seemed too distracted to be interested in the three girls hovering by the large tree, but, since most of the other students had supernatural hearing, Hope decided to play it safe and cast a quick dampening spell so that no one could hear their conversation.

"First you have to promise one thing," Hope told the twins seriously. "You can't tell your parents."

Lizzie and Josie grinned.

"Say no more," Lizzie said. "We're in."


	7. Beyond the Veil

**A/N - So sorry for the delay in posting this chapter! I've been super busy so it took a while to write, and then when it was finally finished, fanfiction was having a server issue, so I couldn't upload it. But here it finally is! Thanks again to everyone who's favorited, followed, commented, etc.!**

"I'm not so sure this was a good idea," Caroline said softly as she surveyed the large grounds of the Salvatore estate before her. Lights twinkled from every angle, dangling from trees, bushes, the wrought iron fence, and the façade of the great house, brightly illuminating the otherwise dark night. But despite all the efforts she had made to ensure a fun-filled evening, a dark weight she couldn't explain had settled on Caroline's heart. Something felt dreadfully amiss, something she couldn't put a name to, a lingering doubt hovering somewhere in the shadows that all the lights just couldn't seem to reach.

"Earth to Caroline," Alaric was saying, jolting the blonde vampire back to reality.

"Hm?" Caroline's black-lined eyes swiveled to Ric, who was staring at her with concerned eyes while half a smirk twisted his lips.

"Maybe you're not feeling well," he commented when it was clear that Caroline hadn't heard a single word he'd uttered. "Maybe you should sit this one out."

Caroline quickly shook her head and forced a smile onto her lips, deciding not to remind Ric that her undead status prevented her from ever feeling unwell. Though, of course, he'd probably meant it in a different way…but she didn't care enough to ask.

"I can't back out now," she chose to say, attempting for a playful tone of voice. "I'm already dressed for the occasion, so I may as well see it through."

Caroline smoothed out the flaring folds of her black dress, the sheer sleeves and neck small protection from the cold night (not that it bothered her). She'd pulled her blonde tresses back in a high bun and penciled dark liner around her eyes. The ensemble was completed by strappy black heels that added at least four inches to her height.

"Let me guess," Alaric said with a small smile, not wearing anything remotely resembling a costume, "you're a vampire."

"How'd you know?" Caroline responded in a cheerful voice, but the smile didn't reach her eyes.

* * *

Halloween night had finally arrived.

Part of Hope was reluctant to don a costume, seeing as how important the day was, but the practical side of her insisted she play the part. If she showed up to a Halloween party without a costume, she was more likely to draw attention, and she needed to be able to slip away unnoticed. As she pulled the black wig over her honey colored hair, Hope frowned thoughtfully at herself in the mirror. Maybe, for one night, she could pretend to be normal.

At least, until the moment came to use her magic.

But for now, she was happy with the way the dark wig helped to conceal who she really was. If she kept her back to Miss Forbes, the headmistress would never know it was her. And Miss Forbes was sure to be on the lookout for Hope, since they'd never reconciled after Hope's outburst in Caroline's office. She had fully intended to return to the blonde vampire's study to apologize and ask for stories about her father, but something had stopped her. Part of the reason was that Hope was certain Caroline knew it had been she who'd stolen Stefan Salvatore's journal from the library. It didn't matter to Hope that she'd returned it, safe and sound, to its glass case. She'd rather avoid a conversation about it at all, especially one where she was sure to be yelled at.

No, it was best to keep avoiding the headmistress, especially tonight.

Hope picked up her phone from the bed, where she'd carelessly tossed it. She quickly typed a message to Lizzie and Josie, tugged on the wig once more to make sure it was securely in place, and left the room without a second glance.

The next time she returned, she would have her parents back.

* * *

"What took you so long?" Lizzie hissed as Hope emerged from the trees.

Hope huffed a quick sigh of relief before replying. "Trying to avoid your mother," she said simply as she approached the twins. They both seemed slightly nervous, though Lizzie, at least, was trying to hide it behind a mask of annoyance and indifference.

"You guys ready?" Hope asked, pulling a crumpled piece of paper from the back pocket of her jeans. She had gone over the words she'd copied onto it a thousand times. At this point, she probably didn't even need the reminder, for the spell was ingrained in her mind as if she'd written it directly there instead of on the paper.

Lizzie and Josie nodded, though Hope didn't miss the quick glance that the twins exchanged. She bent her head to read the spell, but hesitated a moment and glanced back up.

"Thank you," she said, with as much sincerity as she could muster.

Josie smiled, but Lizzie replied, "Don't thank us yet."

Hope's mouth set in a grim line at the reminder that this plan had the potential to fail. She focused on the spell in her hands and let the worry, anger, and yearning fill her up. It couldn't fail. If it did, then Hope wasn't sure what she would do. This was the only option she had, and the thought of it failing…

It wasn't an idea she wanted to entertain.

"La'tir reve," Hope began to chant, reading the spell before her. It had taken hours to find it, hidden within a dark, complex spell book. She read the words with deep concentration, pouring all her emotions into each line, willing them to work. "La'tir reve ad mortus, la'tir reve ad mortus, la'tir reve ad mortus!"

Hope's voice became stronger and louder with each repetition, and she felt a thrill in her heart as the wind picked up, the moon darkened, and a faint, flowing outline appeared in her sight.

"There!" she screamed in between lines.

Lizzie and Josie moved closer to the place Hope had indicated, their arms outstretched. Hope's heart felt as though it would burst, so strong was her yearning. She watched as the twins siphoned the magic of the boundary into their bodies, and she could swear she saw dark shapes moving just beyond the hazy outline…

"Mom?" she called, her voice barely discernible above the howling wind. "Dad?"

Excitement coursed through her at the reality of the situation. It was working, the spell was working.

Everything she wanted was in her reach.

"Hope?"

Lizzie's voice sounded like a whisper in the cacophony of sounds around her. Hope glanced towards the blonde, and her excitement transitioned into fear. Blood was trickling from one of Lizzie's nostrils, and her body was shaking as though a chill had entered her body.

"Hang on!" Hope shouted, glancing at Josie to see if she shared the same ails as her sister. There was no blood, but her lips were turning a nasty shade of blue…

"Just hang on!" Hope screamed as the dark shapes began to solidify before her.

Everything she ever wanted.

Almost within her grasp.

* * *

There was a deep chill in the air.

Caroline glanced up as the wind caused the lights to sway where they hung. Was she imagining it, or had the moon turned dark? Surely not, she reasoned. Perhaps the moon simply seemed darker because of the all the bright lights around the grounds. She glanced around at the teens spilled across the lawn, their laughter rippling across the yard to her. They appeared to be at ease…so why wasn't she?

"Caroline." Alaric was suddenly at her elbow, a frown twisting his mouth. "Have you seen the girls?"

The blond vampire's stomach lurched in panic. She shook her head. "No, I – damn."

Alaric followed her gaze. There, a few feet away, the air appeared hazy and dim.

"What the hell is that?" Ric murmured. He took a few steps toward it, his frown deepening.

"Ric, we have to get the kids inside," Caroline said, a feeling of unease settling in her stomach, "and find the girls."

"Right," Alaric agreed. Then, raising his voice, "Party's over, everybody inside! Let's go!"

Caroline took up the cry, ignoring the groans as she and Ric moved in opposite directions, eyes peeled for the twins. Hope popped into her mind, as well. She hadn't seen the young Mikealson for hours. There had a been a moment earlier where she'd thought she'd recognized Hope, but it was only for a split second. Caroline wasn't sure if the girl had even come to the party.

"Josie! Lizzie!" Caroline began to shout as the hordes of students had entered the school. She knew that she'd be able to cover more ground than Ric, so she moved quickly, moving closer to the woods with every breath. "Girls!"

The wind picked up, and the hazy air rippled before her. A dark shape seemed to materialize just beyond the strange occurrence.

"Lizzie? Josie?" Caroline called.

"Not exactly," said an incredibly familiar voice as the dark shape solidified with each step forward.

Caroline stared, words failing her.

"Hello, love," the familiar voice said as the lights illuminated the face that matched it.

Caroline struggled to find her voice, her blue eyes wide as they took in the person before her. She swallowed and tried again, the single word that floated out of her mouth a mere whisper, but it didn't matter. He was close enough to hear.

"Klaus."


	8. Reunion

**A/N - I apologize profusely for the long delay in between chapters! It can sometimes be difficult to find the time to sit down and write. But I hope you enjoy! As always, thanks for reading! :)**

She reached out tentatively, her hand hovering half a second before closing the small distance between them. A barely audible gasp escaped her lips when she made contact with warm flesh. _His_ warm flesh. Was it even possible? Was she dreaming? Hallucinating? It certainly wouldn't be the strangest thing that had ever happened to her.

"I don't believe it," she whispered, those few words hardly coming close to describing the palpitations in her heart, the electricity thundering through her undead veins, the excitement and fear she was simultaneously experiencing at his presence.

"And yet," he said in dulcet tones, a mysterious light burning in his eyes at the mere sight of her, "the soft flesh you currently feel under your fingertips is all too real."

Caroline took a long moment to take it all in. Her eyes roamed over his face, every detail exactly as she remembered it. And she had thought about his face often the past few years, even more in the period of time since he'd died. The desire to believe and the fear that it was false were at war within her. If he wasn't real…then what?

But that wasn't the true question Caroline asked herself. The true question was even harder to answer.

What if she wasn't dreaming?

"I'm real," Klaus whispered, as if he could read her mind, his hand reaching up to grip the fingers that still lightly touched his face. He pressed her hand closer to his cheek, then moved both their hands down to his heart. "I've returned to you, Caroline."

Caroline shook her head slightly, tears gathering in her blue eyes, the lights hanging from the trees all around them making the water sparkle and shine. It was hard to shake the disbelief. If she embraced this with all her heart, then she would only be disappointed when the truth was revealed, when she realized that he wasn't truly there. She searched his eyes, a dark longing encircling her heart. He gazed back at her with a hard intensity, an intensity that was all too familiar. She could remember every single time he'd ever looked at her like that…

"I don't…," she began to say again, but her words were lost when Klaus leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. It was gentle and sweet, much like the last kiss they had shared, the kiss Caroline had believed would be their last.

And suddenly, she believed.

"Klaus," she gasped.

"Did you truly think it would be that easy to get rid of me?"

Caroline closed her eyes and pushed the hand over Klaus' heart harder into his chest. The solid flesh did not yield under her touch. Words were suddenly beyond her, yet she managed to force a single one out.

"How?"

Klaus' eyes seemed to darken at the monosyllabic question.

"And this is where our reunion must end," he said in answer. "Our daughters need us."

His words slammed Caroline back to reality. How could she be distracted so easily? Her daughters were missing, and that was priority, even over Klaus coming back from the dead. For, if he was truly returned, she would have all the time in the world to question him. According to Klaus, her girls needed her, and she didn't want to find that Lizzie and Josie had taken his place in the grave.

"What do you mean _our_ daughters?" Caroline demanded as she moved away from Klaus, instinctively knowing that he would follow.

"I think it's better if I lead," he replied, taking her hand and pulling her in a different direction. "I know exactly where they are. After all, that's where the split in the veil is largest, and where I was able to come through."

Caroline's eyebrows lifted so high they almost disappeared into her hair. Of course, she thought, if a Mikealson returned from the dead, then another Mikaelson obviously had something to do with it. Death had never seemed real when it came to that family.

Caroline could only hope that her own family hadn't paid the price.

* * *

"Stop!"

Hope heard the scream, even vaguely registered that it was a voice she knew, before she felt herself being tackled to the ground. She felt no fear for her own safety, though. She was much more concerned with the dark shapes she had just seen moving towards her, difficult to discern through the dark, hazy night, hard to hear over the howling wind. But all of a sudden, as soon as Hope's head hit the ground rather painfully, the whistling wind ceased. She'd stopped chanting the words that had allowed the breach in the veil.

"No," she squeaked, trying to push herself off the ground. But a heavy weight was keeping her down.

"Keep your daughter in check," the familiar voice growled with a strange tone. Disbelief mixed with anger, Hope thought.

"I've got her, get to your own," another familiar voice said. A voice that made Hope's heart stop for a second. A voice she had longed to hear again.

"Mom," she tried to cry, but she'd inhaled a bit of dirt when she'd fallen, and it caused her voice to come out like a croak. Tears began to fall when she felt comforting hands lift her up.

"I'm here, Hope," Hayley said as she gathered her daughter in her arms. Hope vaguely registered a figure standing behind her mother, but the form disappeared when she buried her face in Hayley's shoulder.

"They don't look so great," Hope heard the figure say, and recognized the voice as Uncle Elijah's. She forced her head up to see what he meant. How could anything be short of great when the world was finally being put back together? She had her mother back, and Uncle Elijah, and surely her father was somewhere nearby. He must have crossed, he had to have crossed. The idea that her family was being returned to her filled her with the closest thing to happiness she'd ever felt.

But the lightness in Hope's heart faltered when she followed Elijah's gaze.

Josie and Lizzie were lying motionless on the cold, hard ground, blood trickling from their noses, their lips and fingertips a purplish-blue color. Alaric hovered helplessly over them.

"No!"

"Hope?"

Hope tore her glance away from the damage she'd caused to find Caroline bolting to her daughters, and then her gaze locked with her father's. But she felt only a minor twinge of longing when she saw him, because she was too busy thinking about what the stunt had cost her.

Nothing else had mattered in her quest to regain her family.

She truly was a Mikealson.


End file.
